


New Music: Act One

by ChocolatteKitty_Kat



Series: New Music: the 50s AU [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Music, Background Poly, Band Fic, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Multi, Music, Polyamorous Character, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolatteKitty_Kat/pseuds/ChocolatteKitty_Kat
Summary: Jack Kelly and his friends start a band that quickly grows in popularity, despite increasing opposition from Principal Pulitzer. Follow the kids over four acts, through new friendships and relationships, personal growth, and much more. This is Act One. Find the full fic, plus playlists and background materials, at @starship-squidlet on Tumblr.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva & Racetrack Higgins, Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Tommy Boy, Darcy Reid & Bill Hearst & Original Male Character(s), David Jacobs/Original Female Character(s), Finch & Mush Meyers, Finch & Mush Meyers & Original Female Character(s), Henry & Boots (Newsies), Jack Kelly & The Newsies, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer & Original Female Character(s), Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins & Original Female Character(s), Spot Conlon & JoJo de la Guerra
Series: New Music: the 50s AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128572
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Jack Kelly yawned, stretched, and sighed. He had been up since sunrise, perched on the ledge of the roof of his apartment building, sketch pad balanced on one knee as he drew. He drew whatever he could see: cars on the street below, the New York City skyline, birds hopping around the roof beside him. Now, it was well into the day, if the church bells tolling in the distance had anything to say about it. Too late, in fact—Jack swore to himself and hopped off the ledge, landing smoothly on the fire escape. He clattered down it, wincing with every groan of the aged metal, until he reached the window of his apartment. Inside, he dumped his sketchbook and pencil on his desk, grabbed his guitar, and slipped out the door.

On the street, the city was as slow and still as it had looked from above. Jack settled the strap of his guitar case on his shoulder and strolled down the sidewalk. He knew he was going to be late, but couldn’t bring himself to care too much.

**“New York on Sunday; big city, taking a nap!,”** he sang to himself. He nodded and waved at neighbors he passed as he went, all dressed up in their Sunday best, on their way to and from church.  **“Slow down, it’s Sunday!”** —he called to a pair of kids racing their way down the sidewalk— **“Life’s a ball, let it fall in your lap!**

**“If you’ve got troubles**

**Just take them out for a walk.**

**They’ll burst like bubbles**

**In the fun of a Sunday in New York!**

**You can spend time without spending a dime**

**Watching people watch people pass!**

**Later you pause, and in one of those stores**

**There’s that face next to yours in the glass.”**

He paused to check his reflection in the plate window of a grocery store. Beside his face appeared the wavery imagination of a pretty girl with long brown curls and smiling lips. Jack grinned and winked at her as she vanished in a swirl of passing automobile tires, and he resumed his journey.

**“Two hearts stop beating**

**You’re both too breathless to speak!**

**Love smiles her greeting**

**Then the dream that has seen you through the week**

**Comes true on Sunday in New York!”**

By this point, there were few people on the streets. Jack found himself dancing along the sidewalk, darting from side to side to dodge the few pedestrians he did meet: spinning around couples walking hand in hand, squeezing between gaggles of teenage girls who giggled and waved as he passed, stopping short of tripping over children playing with chalk and jacks on the sidewalk. He grabbed a light post and swung himself around it, his voice rising in volume:

**“New York on Sunday!**

**Big City, taking a nap!**

**Slow down, it’s Sunday!**

**Life’s a ball, let it fall in your lap!**

**And if you’ve got troubles,**

**Go take them out for a walk.**

**They’ll burst like bubbles**

**In the fun of Sunday in New York!**

**You can spend time without spending a dime,**

**Watching people watch people pass!**

**Later you pause, and in one of those stores,**

**There’s that face next to yours in the glass!**

**Two hearts stop beating;**

**You’re both too breathless to speak!**

**Love smiles her greeting**

**Then the dream that has seen you through the week**

**Comes true on Sunday in New York!”**

Jack made his final turn, onto the street his destination was located. He practically skipped along the last stretch of sidewalk, coming to a stop before an unassuming pair of double doors, set into a weathered stone facade. A large neon sign over the door read “MEDDA’S” in big block letters. Jack smiled to himself, shoved both doors open, and stepped into the club.

**“Comes true on Sunday in New York!”**


	2. Chapter 2

Stepping into the club, Jack was hit with a wave of refreshingly cool air. He was also hit—slapped in the face, really—with a chorus of voices shouting his name. And, while his name managed to come out in unison, nothing that followed it did:

“Jack! Where ya been?”

“You’re late!”

—“do you realize what time it is?”—

—“we been waitin’ on ya!”—

“Well, at least he has the guitar!”

“Okay, okay, enough!” Jack held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry I’m late. Time got away from me.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Race Higgins, perched on a stool next to a huge string bass painted green with a shark’s maw off to one side—Jack’s handiwork—rolled his eyes.

“How does time manage to escape you so often?” Albert Dasilva teased, swinging a foot in Jack’s direction—not actually to kick him, but Jack dodged it anyways. The kick earned him a light swat on the arm, and then Albert stood still as Buttons, a small and wiry boy with wild, light brown hair, flitted around him, messing with an assortment of heavy black cords. Albert wore a red—almost the same color as his thick hair, actually—electric guitar like it was an accessory, one arm propped on his hip and the other resting on the neck of the guitar as he stared Jack down.

“Please, like you’re any more punctual,” another of the boys—Finch Cortez, another skinny kid, but with wavy strawberry blond hair—stepped forward to help Jack set up his guitar and microphone.

“To band practice I am,” Albert grumbled.

“Okay, enough,” their perennial peacekeeper, the ray of sunshine that was Crutchie Morris was perched on another stool beside Race, his shiny gold saxophone hung around his neck. Beside him was Tommy Boy, a stocky, short boy with neatly slicked-back brown hair (shiny from all the gel he used), on another stool, his trumpet resting across his thighs as he watched the others. Tommy was quiet, but once he started talking—or playing—he was unforgettable.

“Agreed,” Jack nodded, pointing to Crutchie. By this point, Finch and Buttons had finished setting up his and Albert’s guitars and microphones and stepped over to the bar, where some of their other friends were seated. Jack tapped on his microphone and grinned at the others. He winked at Race, who grinned and hopped down from his stool.

Jack was the first to start playing, but was followed almost immediately by Race and Spot Conlon, their drummer. It didn’t take the others long to join in.

**“Didja ever?”** Jack sang into the mic, waiting for the response from the others.

**“Didja ever?”** Race, Albert, and the boys at the bar called back.

**“Didja ever get?”**

**“Didja ever get?”**

**“Didja ever get one?”**

**“Didja ever get one?”**

**“Didja ever get one of them…”**

**“Didja ever get one of them…”**

**“DAAAYS”** the last word was belted with all of the energy the pack of boys could muster at ten AM on a Sunday—which was quite a bit.

**“Didja ever get one of those days, boys, you ever get one of those days? When nothing is right, from morning till night? You ever get one of those days?”** sang Jack, Race, and Albert.

**“Days, days, days, days. Days, days, days, days!”** They all chanted in unison.

**“You get up in the morning and turn the shower on,**

**You’re getting pneumonia; the hot water is gone—**

**Freezin’, sneezin’,**

**You wanna dry your back;**

**Well, didja ever get one of them days**

**When there’s no towel on the rack?”**

**“Rack, rack, rack, rack. Rack, rack, rack, rack!”** came the chant.

While he sang through the call and response again, Jack strolled over towards the bar. He was glad Buttons always left him the longest aux cord; Jack liked to  _ move _ while he performed.

**“Didja ever get one of them girls, boys,**

**You ever get one of them girls?**

**Who’s awful nice, but cold as ice,**

**Didja ever get one of them girls, boys,**

**Didja ever get one of them girls?—yeah!”**

**“Girls, girls, girls, girls. Girls, girls, girls, girls!”**

**“You’re at a drive-in movie with a cute brunette**

**A-countin’ on the kisses that you figure to get.**

**Closer, closer—then she hollers ‘whoa!’**

**Didja ever get one of them girls who**

**Just wants to watch the show?”**

**“Show, show, show, show. Show, show, show, show!”**

As they went through the call and response chorus again, Jack made his way over to the other side of the stage, stationing himself in front of Crutchie and Tommy on their stools, singing his lines to them, and nearly making Crutchie laugh through his sax.

**“Didja ever get one of them days, boys,**

**Didja ever get one of them days?**

**When nothing is right, from morning to night?**

**Didja ever get one of them days, boys.**

**Didja ever get one of them days?”**

**“Days, days, days, days. Days, days, days, days!”**

**“You’re on a Sunday picnic and then it starts to pour,**

**You run through poison ivy, scratch until you are sore!**

**Ants come marching, carry off the bread!**

**Didja ever get one of them days when you shoulda stayed in bed?”**

**“Days, days, days, days. Days, days, days, days!”**

They went through the call and response one last time, and Jack wandered back across the stage to stand in front of his microphone to belt the last line as loud as possible:  **“One of them days!”** He could have sworn he heard something rattle somewhere—probably in the amp, which Buttons would no doubt chew him out for later—but grinned to himself as the boys at the bar applauded.

“Hey, uh, Jack?” said Race. “You wanna do the rest of us a favor and  _ not _ show us up with how loud you can sing there?”

Albert grinned and rolled his eyes. “He can’t help it. He’s a natural-born show off.”

“Guys, that sounded great!” Mush Meyers, a bright-eyed boy with mousey brown hair and broad shoulders, bounced over to from the bar, practically vibrating with excitement. Mush was the one who arranged all of the band’s music, and while he wasn’t stingy with his criticism, he was with his praise, and his joy was infectious. Soon enough, the whole bad was smiling.

“You know, we could sound even better,” Crutchie called from his stool.

“Here we go again,” Jack groaned.

“Look, all’s I’m saying is that, if we had a piano player, we’d sound even better for it!” Crutchie said.

“We’ve been over this before,” Jack said, speaking into the microphone—not that the others wouldn’t have been able to hear him without it. “We don’t need no piano player. We don’t need some stranger comin’ in here, with his own ideas of what kind of music we should be playin’ or how to play it. We got a good thing goin’ here, all of us, and I think bringin’ someone new into the mix would just mess that up.”

Mush pointed at Crutchie. “He’s right though. A piano would bring this whole thing up to another level.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “We. Don’t. Need. It.”

“Sure, we don’t need it, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try,” said Spot from his seat behind the drum set. “Could be fun.”

“Yeah—we don’t know that someone new would mess things up,” said Crutchie. “You never know—you might meet your new best friend!”

“I got enough best friends already,” Jack retorted, swinging his arm to indicate the boys surrounding him. “We don’t need anyone else. Period.”

Mush opened his mouth to protest again, but Jack interrupted him:

**“A little less conversation, a little more action, please!**

**All this aggravation ain’t satisfactioning me.**

**A little more bite and a little less bark,**

**A little less fight and a little more spark**

**Close your mouth and open up your heart and, baby, satisfy me.**

**Satisfy me, baby!”**

As soon as Jack had started singing, Albert had jumped in on his guitar—it was one of his favorite songs to play, which is part of why Jack had chosen it—and by the end of the first verse the others had jumped in as well. Mush stood in front of Jack, arms crossed and shaking his head, a smile creeping across his face despite himself, so Jack grabbed him and pulled him up to the mic, and they sung the next verse together:

**“Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music**

**Drifting through a summer breeze**

**It’s a groovy night and I can show you how to use it**

**Come along with me and put your mind at ease!**

**A little less conversation, a little more action, please!**

**All this aggravation ain’t satisfactioning me.**

**A little more bite and a little less bark,**

**A little less fight and a little more spark.**

**Close your mouth and open up your heart and, baby, satisfy me!**

**Satisfy me, baby!”**

Mush stepped away when they reached the bridge, a call and response of “Satisfy me!” and “Come on, come on!” that Jack sang, echoed by Race and Albert. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see that Mike and Ike, the irrepressible twins, had hopped off of their seats and were going back and forth in some sort of dance battle, to the amusement of their audience.

**“Don’t procrastinate, don’t articulate**

**Girl it’s gettin’ late, gettin’ upset waitin’ around**

**A little less conversation, a little more action, please**

**All this aggravation ain’t satisfactioning me.**

**A little more bite and little less bark,**

**A little less fight and a little more spark.**

**Close your mouth and open up your heart and, baby, satisfy me!**

**Satisfy me, baby!**

The last verse was the same as the second, but shifted up in pitch. Before it, however, came Albert’s guitar solo, and then they burst out singing with renewed vigor.

When the song was finished, the twins struck identical poses, earning laughter along with the applause from the rest of their friends.

“See?” Jack said. “We don’t need no-one else. We’re doing just fine the way we are.”

Mush and Crutchie traded glances. “Whatever,” Mush sighed, heading towards the table he and Elmer were seated at, covered with sheets of music. “Whatever you say, Jack. You’re the boss.”


	3. Chapter 3

A note of tension pervaded through the rest of rehearsal, and Mush left without speaking to Jack again. Buttons and Finch were uncharacteristically quiet as they packed up the equipment and load it into Finch’s truck and Tommy’s car. Jack helped Spot load his drum kit into his beat-up old car.

“Do you think I’m wrong, Spot?” he asked quietly, passing one of the drum cases to his friend.

Spot shrugged. One of the shortest members of their crew, Spot was universally feared by his enemies and respected by his friends. Nevertheless, he was also one of the best people to ask for advice, and Jack trusted him for that above almost anyone else he knew. “Tryin’ new things doesn’t always hurt. Mush is right; a piano player could be the best thing for this band since actually formin’ the band. Gettin’ one could make us better—push us from good to  _ really _ good.”

“What if it doesn’t, though?”

“What, you think it’ll make us worse?” Spot snorted. “Seems unlikely. Worst case scenario, as far as I’m concerned, is that we don’t get any better. We stay the same. Which, honestly, would be fine. ‘Cos we are pretty good, after all.”

“But what if the person we bring in for it messes us up? I’m not so worried about us not soundin’ good as much as I’m worried about us not  _ doin’ _ good. Like, they could bring in all sorts of problems.”

“Dude, it’s not a dog. We won’t get fleas.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Yeah, I know. But, honestly, do you really think that’s what’d happen? How long have we all known each other—how long have you and Race and Albert and Crutchie known each other?”

Jack laughed. “Since we was little.”

“Right,” said Spot. “Tommy and I are some of the newest, and we’ve still been around since we started high school. None of us is goin’ anywhere, piano player or no. But Mush made a good point there, too—you never know if bringing in someone new could introduce you to your new best friend or not!”

Jack arched an eyebrow and slung an arm over Spot’s shoulders as they headed back into the club. “I don’t need any more best friends. I’ve got enough of youse. But… I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Spot slapped Jack between the shoulder blades, nearly knocking the air out of him. “Yeah! Hey—don’t forget to tell Mush next you see ‘im!”

“Tell Mush what?” Crutchie asked, popping up next to Jack.

Jack jumped, and glared at the smaller boy. “How do you  _ do  _ that?”

Crutchie laughed. “You’d think the crutch would make it harder, right?”

Jack shook his head and picked up his guitar case. Once he had the strap settled on his shoulder, he picked up Crutchie’s saxophone case as well. “Come on, I’ll walk ya home.”

“I can carry my own sax.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to,” Jack slung his arm over the blond boy’s shoulders. “See ya later, Spot!”

“See ya!”

They stepped outside just in time to see Tommy pull away and Finch climb into his battered truck. “Hey, you two want a ride?”

Jack eyed the rusty vehicle warily. “Not in this thing. It looks like a death trap on wheels.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girl like that!” Finch protested, faking offense.

“When you get a girl, I won’t talk about her like that,” Jack said. “As for this piece of garbage? No promises.”

“Alright, alright,” Finch laughed. “Hey, I’ll see youse two next rehearsal.”

“See ya!” Crutchie chirped.

Finch waved as he pulled away, leaving Jack and Crutchie on the sidewalk outside of the club. “Let’s go,” said Jack. “I’m walking you home, remember?”

Crutchie hurried to catch up with Jack’s longer stride. “I said I could carry my own sax.”

“And I said that just because ya  _ can _ doesn’t mean ya have to,” said Jack, tugging on the strap of his guitar case. “Come on.”

Crutchie laughed and fell into step beside Jack, who subconsciously shortened his stride to match his friend’s. “How ya been?” Jack asked. “Without school, I feel like I never see any of youse.”

Crutchie shrugged. “I been fine. You know. Just… life stuff.”

“How’s the new family been treatin’ ya? They good?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty great, actually. It’s just… you know, life stuff.”

“You’re sixteen and school’s still out for the summer,” Jack laughed. “What kinda life stuff have you got to worry about? Acne?”

Crutchie laughed. “No more like… after high school. You know; I’m almost seventeen, which means that I only have another year in the system, and then I’m on my own. I don’t know what I’m going to do when that happens.”

Jack sighed and slung his arm around Crutchie’s shoulders again. “Kid, you’ve got a whole ‘nother year to figure that out. There’s no rush.”

“There’s kind of a rush.”

“There’s. No. Rush.” Jack stepped in front of Crutchie and grabbed his shoulder, giving him a little shake. “You’re sixteen. Live your life a little. You can’t spend your whole life worryin’ about the future and forgettin’ to live in the present.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I just can’t help it!” Crutchie protested. “I just start thinking, and my brain starts going around in circles and won’t stop and everything gets so loud, and I just have to sit down and try and breathe but sometimes even that’s too hard!”

Jack slipped his arm back around Crutchie’s shoulders and started walking. “Does that ever happen to you?” Crutchie asked softly, a few steps later.

“Sometimes,” Jack shrugged.

“What do you do when it does?”

“I run away,” Jack laughed. “I feel like if I’m gettin’ to that point, it’s time to go somewhere where I can be alone and just make the noise stop, at least for a little while.” He started humming a little as they walked, earning him a bemused glance from Crutchie.

“You good?”

**“When this old world starts getting me down, and people are just too much for me to face,”** Jack began singing, stepping away from Crutchie’s side. He jogged a few steps forward, the guitar bouncing against his back as he ran, until he got to a street lamp, which he grabbed and swung around like he had earlier.  **“I climb way up to the top of the stairs, and all my cares just drift right into space!”**

Crutchie laughed. “Hey! Be careful with my sax!”

**“On the roof it’s peaceful as can be**

**And there the world below can’t bother me!**

**Let me tell you now—**

**When I come home feelin’ tired and beat,**

**I go up where the air is fresh and sweet.**

**I get away from the hustling crowd,**

**And all that rat race noise down in the street!”**

He hopped off of the street lamp and ran to catch up with Crutchie, who had kept walking while he sang.

“Cut it out,” Crutchie laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

**“On the roof, the only place I know**

**Where you just have to wish to make it so!**

**Let’s go up on the roof!**

**At night the stars put on a show for free,**

**And, darling, you can share it all with me!**

**I keep a-tellin’ you”**

Jack wrapped his arm around Crutchie’s shoulders again and gestured expansively with his other hand—a difficult thing to do while holding the heavy saxophone case.

**“Right smack dab in the middle of town**

**I’ve found a paradise that’s trouble proof**

**And, if this world starts getting you down,**

**There’s room enough for two**

**Up on the roof.”**

Crutchie rolled his eyes, finally giving up as he echoed Jack:  **“Up on the roof.”**

**“Up on the roof!”** Jack grinned and elbowed him in the side, dancing ahead again.  **“Up on the roof!”**


	4. Chapter 4

Later that week, Jack found himself running late to rehearsal yet again.  _ Albert was right—I really am always late _ he groaned to himself as he grabbed his guitar and ran out the door. It was Wednesday afternoon, and the streets were much busier than they had been Sunday morning, packed full of women shopping, children playing, and men on their way home from work. Jack dodged the other pedestrians deftly, accustomed to the busy city streets, calling out apologies as he bumped shoulders and whacked people with his guitar, despite his best efforts.

He burst into the club, once again appreciating the rush of cooler air and dim lights, starkly contrasting the heat and sunshine outside. “Sorry, I know I’m late, and I don’t want to hear about it!” Despite that, he was surprised when none of the normal friendly criticism was incoming. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but, when they did, he was surprised to see that hardly any of the band equipment was set up—just Spot’s drum kit, Race’s bass, and a few microphones, but none of the amps were anywhere to be seen, and the normal mess of aux cords was virtually nonexistent. Albert and Finch were standing off to the side, Albert showing Finch a riff on his guitar, which Finch was trying to copy—poorly, as he seemed extremely distracted by a fuss going on by the bar.

“Kelly!” 

Jack swiveled immediately towards the bar at the sound of the voice. It was one he knew well, considering it belonged to one of his favorite people. “Cor!” He shouted, spreading his arms to catch the speaker as she ran over and flung herself in for a hug. “How ya doin’, kid? It’s been ages!”

Cora Higgins, a small girl with a freckled face, grinned up at him, all sparkling blue eyes and wild blonde curls that matched her adoptive brother’s almost perfectly. Race came up behind her and rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s been like… three weeks. Youse actin’ like you ain’t seen each other in months.”

“Hey, I’m here too!” came another voice from behind Race. He stepped aside to reveal another girl, even smaller than Cora, with long dark hair and big brown eyes that smiled behind heavy glasses. Elaine O’Dell grinned brightly and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“Hey, Lainey,” Jack grinned. He patted her on the head as he slipped through the small group and headed for the stage.

“For once, we can’t yell at you for being late,” Albert teased, abandoning his lesson with Finch—whose attention was completely diverted at this point. “Tommy Boy isn’t here from work yet, so we can’t even finish setting up.”

“Hey, Jack, do you know Katherine?” Elaine asked, materializing behind Jack’s elbow as he set his guitar down and started to set up.

“No,” Jack said absently, checking the tuning before handing the guitar to Buttons to hook up.

“Well, then, Jack Kelly, meet Katherine!” Elaine beamed, pointing to a third girl that Jack hadn’t previously noticed, standing by the bar and chatting with Mush. She glanced over when Elaine called her name and offered them a small, confused wave. “Come on,” said Elaine, grabbing Jack’s hand and half-dragging him over towards the bar. “Katherine! This is Jack! He’s the lead singer, and he plays guitar.”

“Hi,” said Jack, sticking out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Katherine smiled, her face schooling into a perfect expression of pleasure. She took Jack’s hand and shook it smartly twice before letting go.

“Hey, Mush, you got a second?” Jack asked, turning away from Katherine.

“Sure,” said Mush. He followed Jack a few steps away from the bar. “What’s up.”

Jack took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

Mush arched an eyebrow. “Wow. Did that cause you as much pain to say as it looks like it did?”

“Shut up and let me talk.”

Mush’s eyebrow rose even higher, but he crossed his arms and shrugged, indicating that Jack should continue.

“Look, I don’t like change”—

“Obviously.”

“What did I say?”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t like change. The idea of bringing in someone new makes me… uncomfortable. We’ve got a great thing going here, and I just… don’t want to bring in someone new and have them mess that up. I don’t want to lose you guys—I  _ can’t _ lose you guys—and I guess I was just so afraid of that that I didn’t stop to even consider what you were saying. You’re right. This could be a really great thing for us, for the band. So I’m all in on the idea of finding a piano player.”

As Jack spoke, a smile spread slowly across Mush’s face, until he was beaming. “So we can have auditions?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack sighed. “But only if you run them.”

Jack hadn’t thought it was possible, but Mush’s face lit up even more at that. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jack grinned, throwing an arm around Mush’s shoulder’s and pulling him in to ruffle his hair. “Who else could we trust to pick someone good?”

Before anyone could say anything else, Specs burst in through the back door. “Tommy’s here!”

“Hey, let’s go! The faster we get the stuff in, the sooner we can start!” Mush yelled. Buttons and Finch were already out the door, followed by Mike and Ike and a few of the other boys. Jack and Mush followed as well, leaving Elaine, Cora, and Katherine by the bar counter.

The rest of the equipment was set up with as much speed as possible—since they were starting rehearsal so late in the day, they didn’t have much time to rehearse before Medda opened for the night—and soon the band was standing in their spots on stage while Buttons and Finch checked over all the cords one last time.

“So, are they any good?” Jack heard the whisper from the direction of the bar, and turned to see Katherine bending towards Elaine as she spoke.

“They’re great!” Elaine chirped, clambering up onto the stool next to her. “Just wait’ll you hear Jack sing; he’s amazing. And everyone else is too!”

Jack grinned and winked at her. “Well, thank you very much, Lainey! This one goes out to you three lovely ladies over there.”

Cora and Elaine cheered as Jack started to play, followed by Crutchie on his sax before the rest of the band joined in.

**“Lord almighty**

**I feel my temperature rising!**

**Higher, higher,**

**It’s burning through to my soul.**

**Girl, girl, girl, girl,**

**You gonna set me on fire, mmhmm!**

**My brain is flaming,**

**I don’t know which way to go, yeah”**

Elaine cheered and hopped off of her stool, joining some of the boys who had started to dance. Finch offered her his hand, which she accepted, and soon they were doing simple swing steps along the open strip of floor in front of the bar. Cora laughed and soon joined in too, dancing with Elmer. Mike and Ike bowed stiffly to each other and then joined up to dance as a couple, both of them trying to lead at the same time, which inevitably led to them tripping over one another, to the amusement of those around them.

**“Your kisses lift me higher**

**Like the sweet song of a choir!**

**You light my morning sky**

**With burning love!”**

Katherine was the only person by the bar who hadn’t started dancing—although, not for lack of trying. Kid Blink had offered her a dance once, and Romeo two or three times, but she had rejected them both with a polite shake of her head. Romeo cut in on Elmer and Cora, and Elmer tried his luck with Katherine, but was also rejected.

**“Ooh, ooh, ooh!**

**I feel my temperature rising**

**Help me, I’m flaming**

**I must be a hundred and nine!**

**Burning, burning, burning**

**And nothing can cool me, yeah,**

**I just might turn into smoke—**

**But I feel fine!**

**‘Cause your kisses lift me higher**

**Like a sweet song of a choir!**

**And you light my morning sky**

**With burning love!**

**Ah, ah, ah—**

**With burning love!”**

Katherine continued to sit, perched primly on her stool, one eyebrow raised as they continued the song. When she saw Jack looking at her and grinning, she shook her head slowly and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

**“It’s coming closer,**

**The flames are now licking my body!**

**Won’t you help me?**

**I feel like I’m slipping away,**

**It’s hard to breathe**

**My chest a-heaving**

**Lord have mercy,**

**I’m burning a hole where I lay!**

**Your kisses lift me higher,**

**Like the sweet song of a choir!**

**You light my morning sky**

**With burning love!**

**With burning love!”**

Cora and Elaine joined in with the boys to shout the lyrics of the finale, Cora reaching up to cover her ears as it got too loud:

**“I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love!**

**Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love!**

**A hunk, a hunk of burning love!”**

That went on until Jack and Albert got bored with playing the same part of the song. Jack raised a hand in the air and waved, and they all sang the line one last time:  **“A hunk, a hunk of burning love!”** Then, the band finished with a flourish. The other boys dissolved into cheers and whooping. Cora was grinning, her pert nose crinkled up as she bounced on her toes, hands still over her ears. Elaine clapped and laughed, glancing over her shoulder at Katherine, who sat still, back ramrod straight, at the bar.

“So, what’d you think, Kath?” Elaine asked once things quieted down a little.

“Not bad,” Katherine shrugged. “It’s not the best thing I’ve ever heard, but it’s not too bad.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, you think you could do better?” he retorted.

Katherine arched her eyebrow again and hopped off the stool. “Oh, I know I could.”

Jack stepped aside and gestured sweepingly to the microphone. “Go right ahead.”

Katherine paused, then grinned slowly. Something about her grin made Jack hesitate, wondering if he might regret this. Nevertheless, he set his guitar aside and sat down next to Mush at his regular table. The rest of the boys took seats at the bar or at the tables as Katherine pulled Elaine and Cora into a huddle of flurries whispers. When they separated, Cora joined Race, pulling him down to whisper in his ear before stealing his mic and moving it to the front of the stage beside Jack’s. Katherine did the same with Albert, also taking his microphone to the front of the stage. She positioned Cora at the middle microphone as Buttons came over to adjust the height of the microphones. Elaine went to Spot and whispered briefly in his ear before bouncing her way to the front of the stage. When she stood in front of the last microphone—Katherine had arranged them by order of height, so she was on the audience’s left, in front of Albert, with Cora in the middle and Elaine on the right, next to Crutchie and Tommy on their stools—Buttons, smirking slightly, dropped the microphone down as low as it would go, which was, surprisingly, too low even for Elaine.

“Very funny,” Elaine rolled her eyes.

Buttons laughed and adjusted it to her height, then took a seat next to Finch at the table with Jack and Mush.

Katherine raised her chin and winked at Jack, then started snapping her fingers. Spot picked up the rhythm immediately, but it was Elaine who sang first, picking up the lowest harmony line:  **“Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolli, lolli, lolli!”**

Cora was the next to join in, with the high harmony:  **“Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolli, lolli, lolli!”**

Katherine was the last to join in, singing the middle part: **“Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolli, lolli, lolli!”** And then they were all singing together:  **“Lollipop!”**

Albert, Race, Crutchie, and Tommy all joined in in the background as the girls continued the song, Race and Albert both singing and playing their instruments, and Spot picked up the beat on his drums.

**“Call my baby lollipop,**

**Tell you why:**

**His kiss is sweeter than an apple pie,**

**And when he does his shaky rockin’ dance,**

**Man, I haven’t got a chance!”**

As they launched into the chorus again, Jack and Mush traded glances.

“They’re good!” Mush mouthed, eyes wide.

“Better than I expected,” Jack whispered back.

“We could use that”—

“Don’t even think about it.”

**“Sweeter than candy on a stick,**

**Huckleberry, cherry, or lime,**

**If you had a choice, he’d be your pick**

**But lollipop is mine!”**

“Jack, come on”—

“Mush, no. We’re not bringing a bunch of girls in here. Girls bring drama. A piano player will be bad enough.”

“But, Jack, just think how much having some higher voices would open up what we’re able to do! The harmonies I could write for them—clearly they could sing it!”

“No, Mush.”

**“Crazy way he thrills me,**

**Tell you why,**

**Just like lightning from the sky**

**He loves to kiss me till I can’t see straight**

**Gee, my lollipop is great!”**

They finished the song by repeating the chorus twice, then finished as the band instruments dropped out one by one, until only Spot was left. When the girls finished, they all made a popping noise, followed by a drum flourish from Spot. The girls giggled and bowed as the boys at the bar cheered and applauded them.

Jack stood up and crossed over to Katherine. She put her hands on her hips and looked up into his face, maintaining eye contact. Jack mimicked the defiant body language by crossing his arms and half-frowning down at her.

“Well?” Katherine said.

“Well what?” Jack copied her tone.

Elaine and Cora traded glances and slipped away to take Jack’s spot at the table. Buttons got up and squeezed between them to grab Albert’s mic and return it to its spot in front of them, readjusting the height. Finch did the same with Race’s mic, but Jack and Katherine paid them no mind.

“What did you think?”

“It was fine,” Jack shrugged. “I knew Cora and Elaine could sing good, so I was expecting it to be. You sounded good, too, I guess.”

Katherine’s eyebrows shot up. Her arms snapped to her sides, and her hands balled up into fists as she took another step closer to Jack, getting right up in his face. “Oh, is that so?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Look, it wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t spectacular. You sounded nice.”

“Now, Jack,” came a new voice from the back of the club, “I’m sure you can think of some nicer things to say than that. After all, those girls certainly did something pretty special just now!”

“Miss Medda!” The cheer went up as they all noticed the club’s owner for the first time. Medda, a tall, stately woman, dressed neatly in a perfectly-tailored pink and orange suit. Her dark skin gleamed in the club’s blue and red lights, and her jet-black hair was swept up into a beautiful twist on the back of her head. As she strode forward, heels clicking rhythmically on the linoleum floor, a hush fell over the teenagers. Medda Larkin, retired middle school music teacher, had taught most of them at some point or another in the past, and had inspired a universal love of music in all of them. She was the one who had taught Jack, Albert, Finch, and Mush to play the guitar, Cora and Elaine how to sing, and started Race on the bass. She had helped them fundraise to buy all of their instruments and band equipment, and offered her club as a rehearsal space when it was closed on one condition: “When you start doing shows, you always give me the performance spots I want or need to fill my club, and you do it for free.” They had all agreed readily, happy to do anything for Medda.

Medda stopped next to Jack and Katherine, who each took a half-step back from each other. “Now, Jack, don’t you think you could find a little something nicer to say to these girls that just did such a lovely performance for all the rest of you?”

Jack sighed. “You did sound pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Mush called from his table. “They were great! Amazing! Ask them if they’ll sing with us sometimes!”

Jack whipped around and glared at his friend, who laughed and turned to Elaine and Cora, continuing a conversation with them.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine snapped. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself trying to come up with a compliment.” She stomped off and snatched her purse up off the bar, narrowly avoiding smacking one of the twins with it. “Cora, Elaine, let’s go.”

The other girls stood up. Cora offered Race and Jack an apologetic shrug before they followed Katherine out of the club.

“Close your mouth before a fly goes in it,” Race teased, nudging Finch, who snapped his jaw shut.

“Girls,” Jack grumbled. He stomped over and grabbed his guitar.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to them, your interactions with the, uh,  _ fairer sex _ might go a bit more smoothly,” Mush called from his seat without looking up, apparently buried in the sheets of music surrounding him.

“Ha! Mush said ‘sex’!” One of the twins snickered from the bar.

They all turned to look at him.

“What are we, twelve?” Tommy said.

“Look, every interaction I’ve ever had with a girl—‘sides Cor and sometimes Elaine—has gone just about the same as that one,” Jack said. “You can’t say that’s  _ all _ my fault.”

“All I’m saying is that  _ you’re  _ the common denominator in all of those ‘interactions’,” said Mush, looking up from his work. “Not the girls.”

Jack scowled at him and struck a chord on his guitar.  **“Girls! Goin swimmin’! In bikinis! A walkin’ and a wigglin’ by! Yeah, yeah, yeah!”**

The other boys joined in immediately, even the boys at the bar taking up the chant of  _ ‘girls’ _ behind the lyrics of the song. Mush shook his head and got back to work.

**“Girls, on the beaches!**

**Girls, oh what peaches!**

**So pretty, Lord I could cry!**

**I’m just a red-blooded boy,**

**And I can’t stop thinkin’ about**

**Girls, sailin’ sailboats!**

**Girls, water skiin’!**

**They’ll drive me out of my mind—yeah, yeah, yeah!**

**Girls, big and brassy!**

**Girls, small and sassy!**

**Just give me one of each kind!**

**I’m just a red-blooded boy**

**And I can’t stop thinkin’ about**

**Girls! Girls! Girls! Girls!**

Finch sat down next to Mush at the table and leaned over to whisper to him. “Hey, did you know those girls?”

“Cora, yes, she’s been Race’s sister since they were ten. Elaine I knew a little back in middle school. We were in Medda’s class together one year, with her brother too. Katherine’s new, though. I might’ve seen her around school; she looks a little familiar, but I don’t know her, no. Why?”

“Well, I was just wonderin’ if ya might know if, uh… if that Elaine had a guy or not.”

Mush’s head shot up and whipped around. He stared at Finch with wide eyes as a grin slowly crept across his lips. “Oh, really?”

“Forget I asked.” Finch started to get up, but Mush grabbed his arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear:

“ _ I’m _ not the one to ask about Elaine O’Dell. Try Race or Albert; they see more of her ‘cause’ve Cora.”

**“And when I pick up a sandwich to munch**

**A crunchy crunchety,**

**A crunchety crunch,**

**I never ever get to finish my lunch**

**Because there’s always bound to be a bunch of**

**Girls, in tight sweaters!**

**Girls, in short dresses!**

**A-walkin’ and wigglin’ by—yeah, yeah, yeah!”**

The best part of the song, in Jack’s opinion, was the saxophone solo, which Crutchie launched into with vigor, all of the other instruments—except the drums—falling silent. When he finished, the rest of them resumed as though they had never stopped, to sing the last chorus:

**“Girls, out boatin’!**

**Girls, just a-floatin’!**

**So pretty, Lord I could cry!**

**I’m just a red-blooded boy,**

**And I can’t stop thinkin’ about**

**Girls! Girls! Girls! Girls! Girls!”**


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the summer flew by—not that there was much of it left. Before any of the kids knew what was up, it was September, and they were back to school. In the week before classes resumed, Jack and his friends were wrapped up in a tornado of activity. For Jack, much of it was spent sketching, showing the sketches to Mush and Specs, having them rejected, and sketching again. It came down to the wire, but, by the end of it all, they finally came to an agreement, and then Jack lined and colored the sketch, and took it to the copy shop, along with funds Specs pulled from the band fund. He left the copy shop, then, with a few hundred fliers and several dozen posters of his artwork.

This was something Jack didn’t think he’d ever get used to: seeing his artwork around town. It was one thing to put on a show for his friends, and maybe a few others, on a Sunday morning in Medda’s empty club. That was finite. He could hear the music as they made it, but would never have to face it again, and would never have to hear it outside of the performance. But the artwork… Well, that was permanent. Or, at least, moreso than a performance. He would be seeing the fliers and posters for the next nine days, until the auditions they were advertising had ended, if not longer—it really depended on whether Boots and the others managed to find them all and take them down. And every time he saw a flier or poster, he would have to come face to face with something made by his own hands. He would see every little mistake, every flaw that he didn’t notice before calling it finished, over and over and over. The thought of it filled him with dread.

However, when he went to the copy shop in Finch’s rattling blue truck and loaded the boxes into the bed with all of the band equipment already there, and took them in to Medda’s, and the others opened up the boxes with eager anticipation, they were all cooing and exclaiming over the papers inside.

“Jack, these look amazing!” Elaine squealed, pulling out a handful of fliers. Beside her, Cora nodded in agreement, bouncing happily and beaming.

“We’ll get to work handin’ ‘em out straight away!” Boots said, reaching into one of the boxes for an armful of fliers.

Elmer reached over and took half of Boots’s fliers, and Mike and Ike dug into the boxes for handfuls of their own.

“We’ll get going too,” Elaine said, handing a stack of fliers to Cora before taking some for herself.

“Actually, Elaine,” Mush reached out and took the fliers from her, then passed them to Smalls, “I was thinkin’ that maybe you could ride with Finch to hang up the posters.”

Finch froze, dropping the box of paper he had been holding onto the table with a  _ thump _ . “I—uh… what?”

“Yeah, it’ll be great,” Mush took Elaine by the arm and led her over to Finch. “Just make him do all the heavy liftin’.” He winked and gave her a gentle shove, hand planted firmly between her shoulder blades. She stumbled a few steps forward, tangling in her fluffy pink skirt.

“Sure,” Finch said. He picked up the box under one arm and offered the other to Elaine, who took it after a moment’s hesitation.

Jack watched the pair leave and turned to Mush. He pointed at the club doors still swinging shut. “...That?”

“Well, it’s not like he’ll do anythin’ on his own,” Mush shrugged, returning to shuffle through the boxes of fliers. “You know Finch. Mr. ‘waitin’ makes me antsy’, but won’t make the first move if it’ll save his life.”

Jack laughed and shook his head. He looked down at the flier in his hand and spared a smile for it. He hadn’t found the little flaws, yet, but he knew he would if he looked at it too long. But, for now, it was still something to be proud of. Mush peered over Jack’s shoulder. “Come on, stop lookin’ at everything you think you did wrong. With Finch gone, we should help Buttons set up.”

Within a few days, it seemed like half the city was plastered with the posters. You couldn’t make it a block without seeing one. Boots, Cora, Mike, Ike, Henry, Smalls, Romeo, Specs, Blink, and Elaine spent sunny afternoons shoving fliers in teenagers’ faces, and came into the club sunburnt the next morning to pick up more for that day. When they weren’t rehearsing, working, or in school (which was rarely), the other boys joined them as well. By the weekend, the boxes were empty, and Jack was seeing his artwork everywhere he turned:

JACK KELLY AND THE NEWSIES

SEEKING PIANIST TO JOIN BAND

AUDITIONS THIS SUNDAY MORNING AT TEN

MEDDA’S

Behind the letters, Jack had drawn their instruments: Race’s shark bass, Albert’s red guitar, Spot’s black drums, his own brown and black guitar, Crutchie’s golden saxophone, Tommy Boy’s silver trumpet. An upright piano was visible in the background, and Mush had done a border of musical notation around the whole thing—he promised Jack that it was the melody line to a popular song—to finish it off.

School started once again on Monday. After this, the most likely location to find the crew handing out their fliers—until they ran out on Wednesday—was outside the school. Jack always laughed to come out after his last class and find Elaine standing on a bench just outside the doors, waving her arms and shouting to attract attention, while Cora, Crutchie, and, often, Finch stood nearby, passing fliers to anyone brave enough to come near. Boots, Elmer, and Smalls would dart through the crowd, stuffing papers into pockets or open backpacks or unsuspecting hands, with Henry, Specs, and JoJo not far behind, warning the others to be careful and slow down before they tripped and broke their noses.

Unfortunately, the students weren’t the only ones who saw the fliers and posters.

“You mean to say that these are students at  _ my _ school, Mr. Seitz?” Joseph Pulitzer set the poster, ripped at the corners from where it had been taken down from its mount, he had been handed on the desk.

“Yes, Mr. Pulitzer, Jack Kelly and the other members of the band attend here,” Seitz nodded. “If I’m not mistaken, most—if not all—of them are in the junior class.”

“I see,” Pulitzer’s frown deepened as his mind went to a specific member of the junior class: someone he was much better acquainted with than Jack Kelly. “Well, Mr. Seitz, I think that I may have to pay a visit to this…  _ audition _ on Sunday. After all, there is a fair amount of less tasteful music pervading the culture of today’s youth. We wouldn’t want that garbage working its way into our school and corrupting our students, would we?”

“Of course not, Mr. Pulitzer.”

“Oh, and give Mr. Snyder a call for me, will you? Extend him an invitation to join me on Sunday; I have a feeling that it may be… beneficial to have him on hand.”


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the week came and went, followed, as it generally was, by Saturday. When Jack woke up Sunday morning, shortly after sunrise, he spent only a moment staring at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, grabbing his guitar, and heading straight for Medda’s. He wasn’t the only one with the same idea: Mush arrived right around the same time he did, practically vibrating with excitement, and Race, Albert, and Cora—all yawning and rubbing their eyes—weren’t far behind, Race and Cora towing the bass together while Albert lugged both his guitar and amp. Over the next hour, most of the rest of the gang arrived. Spot was the last to get there, pulling up right behind a sleek black sedan.

Medda climbed out of her car, shut the door, and surveyed the teenagers camped out on the sidewalk in front of her club. “Well, well, well,” she laughed, pulling her keys out of her pocket and picking her way through them to the door as the sedan pulled away. “Aren’t we all excited today?”

“Of course!” Mush hopped to his feet. “We never thought Jack would agree to this, so we can’t believe it’s happenin’.”

“We’re all half expectin’ Jack to back out at the last second,” Specs teased. He and Mush each grabbed one of the door handles and pushed them open together.

Inside, Medda flipped on the lights while the band and their friends unloaded all of the equipment from Finch’s truck and Spot and Tommy’s cars. Buttons and Finch got to work immediately, setting up microphones, plugging in cords, and so on. They had Elmer and Henry push the upright piano, normally settled against the back wall by the drum kit, into the center of the stage and set the rest of the instruments up around it. Jack helped Mush move one of the tables to the middle of the floor in front of the stage; Boots brought over a pair of chairs to sit behind it. Elaine, Smalls, and JoJo set up two rows of chairs behind them, and everyone else pushed the rest of the tables up against the walls.

“You kids know that you’ll be setting this whole place right before you leave today, right?” Medda called from behind the bar.

“Yes, Miss Medda!” came the chorused response.

.*.*.*.*.*.

As people began to arrive for the auditions, most of the gang made their way over to the bar to settle down. There weren’t enough stools for everyone, even with the band members seated at the tables in front of the stage, so a few of them climbed up onto the counter and perched on the edge. “C’mere,” Finch said to Elaine with a wink. He set both hands on her waist and lifted her up, assisted by a little hop from Elaine herself, to set her on the bar. With permission, he did the same with Cora, setting her next to Elaine, then took a seat on the stool next to Elaine.

Cora elbowed Elaine in the ribs and grinned at her. “So..?”

“Shh!” Elaine hissed.

Cora laughed and leaned forward. She rested her hands on the counter between her knees, watching the door eagerly, feet kicking the air idly. Elaine pulled her legs up and under her skirt, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands while they waited.

There was a much better turnout than any of them had expected. Unfortunately, many of the people who came out to the club were much older than the members of the band, and seemed entirely unimpressed with the two teenage boys running the audition. The most interesting arrivals, however, came over an hour and a half into the process, when a pair of figures darkened the open doorway with their silhouettes.

Over on the bar counter, Elaine felt Cora stiffen. She looked up, and followed her gaze towards the doorway. The two figures stepped in, resolving themselves into Katherine and an unfamiliar, tall, dark-haired boy.

“What’s up?” Elaine nudged Cora with her elbow.

“That’s him,” Cora whispered, eyes huge.

“Who?” Elaine asked, squinting at the boy. After a moment, realization dawned on her, and her own eyes widened. “Wait, that’s  _ him _ . As in,  _ him _ him. The boy you’ve had a crush on since, like, freshman year?”

“Yeah,” Cora whispered. She sat back a little on the counter, picking at the skin around her nails.

“Well, at least now you’ll know his name,” Elaine teased.

Katherine left the boy talking to JoJo, who had been greeting arrivals throughout the auditions, and joined Elaine and Cora at the counter.

“Katherine! You came!” Elaine grinned. “Who’s your friend?”

“That’s Davey,” said Katherine. “We’ve had a few classes together this year. He plays the piano, and I thought it might be good for him to audition today.” Finch hopped off his stool and offered it to Katherine, who accepted graciously. She sat down and crossed her legs neatly, smoothing the fabric of her skirt over her knee. Finch leaned against the counter in front of Elaine and Cora, beside Katherine’s stool, and they watched the last few people audition.

Finally, there was only one person left. Katherine’s friend stood up when Mush waved him forward, stepped onto the stage in front of the piano, and turned back around to face Mush, Jack, and the rest of the band in the audience.

“Hi, my name is Davey Jacobs.”

“Nice to meet you, Davey, I’m Mush, and this is Jack.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ll be playing ‘Moon River’.”

Mush and Jack traded glances. The song Davey had named was drastically different from anything else they’d heard that day, but also was on the opposite end of the musical spectrum from what the band themselves normally played.

“Sounds great,” Jack said finally. “Go for it.”

Davey sat down, back to the others, and stared down at the keys. He lifted his hands, interlaced his fingers and cracked them, and then rested them on the piano keys. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and began to sing as he played:

**“Moon river, wider than a mile**

**I’m crossin’ you in style some day.**

**Old dream maker, you heart breaker**

**Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way.**

**Two drifters, off to see the world,**

**There’s such a lot of world to see.**

**We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ round the bend**

**My huckleberry friend, Moon River, and me”**

Everyone in the club was completely silent. Medda cracked the door of her office behind the bar enough to peer out. Mush and Jack were both slack-jawed as Davey’s voice floated around the club, fading away as he launched into the instrumental portion of the song.

Cora’s eyes were glued on Davey’s fingers, dancing across the ivory and black piano keys, just visible from the angle of the piano to the bar. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her hands tightened on the edge of the bar, leaning forward even further.

**“Two drifters, off to see the world**

**There’s such a lot of world to see**

**We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ round the bend**

**My huckleberry friend, Moon River, and me.”**

Davey finished the song, his voice once again fading out at the end of the chorus, as he played the last few notes. The club remained silent even after the music ended, everyone too shocked and impressed to speak. Davey’s shoulders hunched up as the others stayed quiet, and he risked a glance over his shoulder, his own jaw dropping as he saw the expressions of wonder and elation plastered on the faces of the club’s other occupants.

Jack and Mush traded glances. Jack stood up and cleared his throat. “Wow, uh… That was great, Davey, really.”

Mush nodded furiously.

“It’s just…” Jack continued.

Mush slowly reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. Many of the others rolled their eyes and groaned. Mike and Ike exchanged money. “What a shock,” Finch sighed. “The best, most eligible pianist we’ve heard all day, and Jack’s found somethin’ wrong with ‘im.”

“Well, see, Davey, the music we usually play around here is a little…  _ faster _ than what you just did there.”

Mush groaned and put his head down on the table, smacking his forehead into the flat surface a few times, slow and rhythmic.

“Stop that,” Jack smacked him on the shoulder. “I’m not sayin’ that we don’t want you, per se, Davey, I just think we gotta make sure you can keep up with us first.”

Mush’s head shot up.

“How’d’ya feel about runnin’ a number with us?”

“Sure,” Davey agreed eagerly.

The rest of the band stood up and filled in the stage around Davey. There was a short pause as they settled their instruments into place. Jack and Albert stopped to confer with Davey for a moment, then returned to their positions.

“Ready?” Albert asked. Without waiting for an answer, he picked a quick riff out on his guitar. Jack joined in next, struggling noticeably more than Albert had with the finger-picking, and then Spot. Davey and the rest of the band came in as Jack began to sing:

**“In 1814 we took a little trip,**

**Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Missisip**

**We took a little bacon and we took a little beans**

**And we caught the bloody British in a town in New Orleans”**

Most of the others jumped in for the rousing chorus:

**“We fired our guns and the British kep’ a-comin’**

**There wasn’t nigh as many as there was a while ago**

**We fired once more and they began to runnin’**

**On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.”**

Davey kept pace with the band easily, even after Jack waved for Spot to speed it up for the next verse.

**“We looked down a river**

**And we see’d the British come**

**And there must have been a hundred of ‘em**

**Beatin’ on the drums**

**They stepped so high**

**And they made their bugles ring**

**We stood by our cotton bales**

**And didn’t say a thing.”**

Tommy Boy’s trumpet rose as the lyrics mentioned ‘bugles’, playing the same riff as Albert through the rest of the verse and the next chorus, before falling back into the rhythm he’d kept for the rest of the song.

**“Old Hickory said we could take ‘em by surprise**

**If we didn’t fire our muskets**

**‘Till we looked ‘em in the eyes**

**We held our fire**

**‘Till we see’d their faces well**

**Then we opened up our squirrel guns**

**And really gave ‘em—well…”**

Jack glanced between Davey and Mush. Mush was grinning broadly, and nodded eagerly in response. Jack rolled his eyes, but kept playing, and even allowed himself a little smile.  _ Maybe this won’t be so bad. _

**“Yeah, they ran through the briars,**

**And they ran through the brambles,**

**And they ran through the bushes**

**Where a rabbit couldn’t go.**

**They ran so fast**

**That the hounds couldn’t catch ‘em**

**On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.**

**We fired our cannon ‘till the barrel melted down**

**So we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round**

**We filled his head with cannon balls, and powdered his behind**

**And when we touched the powder off, the gator lost his mind…”**

Over at the bar, Katherine clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Elaine and Cora, who both knew the song fairly well from hanging around rehearsals, seemed less concerned by the lyrics.

**Yeah, they ran through the he briars,**

**And they ran through the brambles,**

**And they ran through the bushes**

**Where a rabbit couldn’t go.**

**They ran so fast**

**That the hounds couldn’t catch ‘em**

**On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.”**

When the song ended, with a flourish from Albert and Tommy, the club erupted into cheers. Jack laughed and clapped Davey on the back. “There you go, Davey.” He glanced over his shoulder at Mush, who gave him another eager nod. Another look around the rest of the members of the band found more nodding heads. Jack glanced back at the door to Medda’s office, where she still stood just visible behind the cracked door. “Whadda you think, Miss Medda?” he called.

“I think you’d be a fool not to take him!”

Jack shook his head as he looked back down at Davey. “Looks like it’s unanimous. You’re in!”

Davey grinned and stood up to shake Jack’s hand. Jack stepped away, taking off his guitar and setting aside before heading over to the bar, letting the rest of the band and several of the others fall on Davey to offer their congratulations and welcome him to the crew.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Katherine,” Jack grinned at her. Elaine turned around on the bar and awkwardly reached down to fill a glass of water from the tap behind her, which she handed to Jack. “Didn’t expect to see you back around here so soon. Didja come for a rematch?”

“I don’t need a rematch, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine rolled her eyes. “Both of us know that the girls and I won the last round. We— _ I _ —have nothing to prove.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Jack rolled his eyes and chugged half his glass of water.

“Anyways, if you _ must _ know, I came with Davey,” Katherine said. Jack choked on his water and came up spluttering. “He’s a friend, and when he told me he wanted to audition, I figured I’d come along to keep him company, since he didn’t know anyone here.”

Elaine and Cora traded knowing glances. “I thought she said  _ she _ was the one who wanted Davey to audition..?” Elaine whispered.

Cora covered her giggle with a cough, but Jack caught it and glared at her.

“Oh, so that’s the  _ only _ reason you’re here?” Jack smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Katherine.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. What other reason could I possibly have for coming here?”

Jack shrugged and drained the rest of his glass. “Maybe to hear us play again? But, wait, you think we’re garbage, so why would you do that?”

“I never said you were garbage, Mr. Kelly, I just said that you weren’t anything special.”

“Why are you callin’ me  _ Mr. _ Kelly?”

“Because I wouldn’t want you to get the impression that we’re on friendly terms,” Katherine sniffed.

Jack drew himself up. “Right. Of course. Because why would a high-class gal like you be on friendly terms with a street rat like me?”

“That’s not what I meant”—

“Oh, don’t worry,  _ Ms.  _ Katherine. You’ve made yourself quite clear.”

Elaine and Cora traded alarmed glances.

“Jack”—Cora started.

“No, it’s fine,” Jack said. “I think your friend here might like to leave. Maybe you two should help her find somewhere a bit more  _ refined _ to spend her time. Wouldn’t want her to get her clothes dirty or anythin’ like that.”

Cora, who had started to reach out for Jack’s shoulder, snatched her hand back, a wounded look on her face. “You want us to leave?” her voice came out as little more than a whisper.

“That was a little uncalled for, Jack,” Elaine snapped.

“That’s not what I”—

“You’re right, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine hopped off the stool and took a step closer to Jack, staring him straight in the face. “I  _ wouldn’t _ want to spend my time here. But not for any of the reasons you seem to think—I actually think that  _ most _ of the people here are pretty great, and I think it’s a lovely place, and I don’t think the music is half bad. The problem I have is with  _ you _ . Making a careless comment like that just solidifies my opinion of you.”

“That’s enough outta you,” Jack snapped. He took a step away from Katherine and turned to Cora. He took both of her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Cor, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I didn’t mean it, I promise. I would  _ never _ ask you to leave. I got mad—not at you, but I took it out on you, and that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

Cora sighed and gave him a small smile. “I know. But it still hurt.”

Jack pulled her into a hug. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay.”

“I can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I promise I’ll do my best not to. If Miss Katherine is right about one thing, it’s that I don’t really think through things before I say ‘em.”

“So, I’m only right about  _ one _ thing?” Katherine arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing across her lips.

“Well, it sure ain’t that you three are better at singin’ than the band.”

“Oh? Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

“A bet?” Jack laughed. “On what?”

“I wager that me, Cora, and Elaine can outsing you. We’ll perform a number. If we get more applause than you did for your last song, we win. If not, you win.”

“That’s not a very  _ scientific _ method of measurement.”

“And? Do you have a better proposition?”

“... No.”

“Then that’s the deal. Girls? Are you in?”

“Sure,” Elaine shrugged. “If Cora’s up for it.”

Cora laughed. “Sure. Why not.”

“Wait a second!” Jack said. “What’s the bet? We’ve figured out what we’re bettin’  _ on _ , but not what we’re bettin’.”

Katherine reached into her pocket. “I have a… five dollar bill.”

“Five dollars it is,” Jack said.

Jack offered his arm to help Cora down, Finch lifted Elaine off of the bar, and the two girls walked over to the rest of the band with Katherine.

“Can I borrow three bucks?” Jack whispered to Finch as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

Finch shot him a look. “What, you think you’re going to lose?”

“No,” Jack said. “But just in case.”

“Can’t help you, buddy,” Finch said. “I think I got one, but that’s it.”

“Damn. I’ll ask the twins.”

Katherine and the girls conferred for a moment, then split up to whisper into the ears of the band members. Once that was done, Katherine lined them up again, this time with Elaine on the left and herself on the right, next to Albert on stage left.

To the surprise of the rest of the club’s occupants, it was Tommy Boy who started off the song, with a quick flurry of notes from his trumpet, followed by Race on the bass. Albert and Davey joined in with some soft accents, and Spot added in a light drumbeat in the background as the girls began to sing, in a lovely three-part harmony:

**“He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way,**

**He had a boogie style that no-one else could play,**

**He was the top man at his craft!**

**But then his number came up, and he was gone with the draft;**

**He’s in the army now, a-blowin’ reveille,**

**He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!**

**They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam,**

**It really brought him down because he couldn’t jam.**

**The captain seemed to understand,**

**Because the next day the cap went out an drafted a band,**

**And now the company jumps when he plays reveille,**

**He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!**

**A-toot, a-toot, a-toot-diddleyada toot!**

**He blows it eight-to-the-bar, in boogie rhythm,**

**He can’t blow a note unless the bass and guitar is playin’ with ‘I’m!**

**He makes the company jump, when he plays reveille,**

**He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”**

Katherine started the next part by herself:  **“He was our boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”**

**“And when he plays boogie woogie bugle he was busy as a ‘bzzz’ bee!”** sang Cora.

“ **And when he plays he makes the company jump eight-to-the-bar!”** sang Elaine.  **“He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”**

The next verse, Elaine and Cora sung together—they sang the same melody, but an octave apart, with Cora on the top and Elaine on the bottom:

**“Toot-toot-toot, toot-diddleyada, toot-diddleyada**

**Toot toot, he blows it eight-to-the-bar**

**He can’t blow a note if the bass and guitar isn’t with ‘im!**

**And the company jumps when he plays reveille**

**He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”**

After this, Tommy launched into a complicated solo, the girls falling silent and the other instruments getting even softer to emphasize it.

“Hey, you still got that dollar?” Jack whispered to Finch.

“Yeah,” Finch laughed, fishing the bill out of his pocket.

“Great. I got a buck fifty from the twins. Someone around here’s gotta have another fifty cents.” Jack grumbled and headed for Specs and JoJo, who had moved from the—now closed—door over to Mush’s table. Finch watched the other three boys fish through their pockets and pass Jack a handful of change as the girls launched into the final verse, once again in their three-part harmony.

**“He puts the boys asleep with boogie every night**

**And wakes ‘em up the same way in the early bright**

**They clap their hands and stamp their feet**

**Because they know how he plays when someone gives him a beat**

**He really breaks it up when he plays reveille**

**He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”**

The boys burst into a practically thunderous round of cheering and applause and Jack groaned inwardly, even as he applauded the girls himself. He walked over to Katherine. “Very nice. You win.”

She smiled prettily. “I know.”

Jack rolled his eyes and offered the fistful of change and bills to her.

Katherine laughed and shook her head. “Keep it. We’ll call it a truce.”

Jack glared at the money in his hand. “Now I have to remember who I got it from.”

It took Spot ringing the bell on his drum set—very aggressively—for most of the others to notice that he, Davey, and Race had never stopped playing. The song was instantly recognizable to everyone, and they all immediately launched into the lyrics, belting the words as loud as possible, to the point of nearly drowning out the instruments:

**“Clang, clang, clang went the trolley!**

**Ding, ding, ding went the bell!**

**Zing, zing, zing went my heartstrings**

**As we started for Huntington Dell.”**

Cora clapped her hands over her ears to block out some of the noise, but Elaine grabbed her elbow and towed her into the audience with Mush, JoJo, and Specs, away from the worst of the chaos.

**“Chug, chug, chug went the motor!**

**Bump, bump, bump went the brakes!**

**Thump, thump, thump went my heartstrings**

**As we glided by Huntington Lake.”**

Mike and Ike, over by the bar, grabbed Elmer and Boots and started swirling them around the restaurant—a pair of awkward couples, as all four of them wanted to lead. Elaine squealed and narrowly dodged them as they whirled past; Mush lifted her up onto the nearest table to keep her out of the way, then climbed up after her. JoJo and Specs copied them, on two of the other tables, and Cora escaped over to the bar, where Finch helped her climb safely back onto the bar top as Henry and Smalls were forcibly roped into the dancing.

**“The day was bright! The air was sweet!**

**The smell of honeysuckle charmed me off my feet**

**I tried to sing but couldn’t squeak**

**In fact, I felt so good I couldn’t even speak!**

**Buzz, buzz, buzz went the buzzer**

**Time to all to disembark**

**Time to fall went my heartstrings**

**As we got off at Huntington Park**

**As we got off at Huntington Park!”**

After this, Crutchie and Tommy played through a fast-paced duet, before Elaine belted out the beginning of the first verse:  **“With my high starched collar, and my high-topped shoes, and my hair piled high upon my head!”**

**“I went to lose a jolly hour on the trolley, and lost my heart instead!”** Mush completed the line.

Albert chimed in next:  **“With my light brown derby, and my bright green tie, I was quite the handsomest of men!”**

A laughing Katherine finished off the verse:  **“I started to yen, so I counted to ten, then I counted to ten again!”** —and then the three girls belted the next chorus’s lines as loud as they could:

**“Clang, clang, clang went the trolley!**

**Ding, ding, ding went the bell!**

**Zing, zing, zing went my heartstrings**

**From the moment I saw him I fell.”**

The boys sang the next chorus:

**“Chug, chug, chug went the motor!**

**Bump, bump, bump went the brake!**

**Thump, thump, thump went my heartstrings**

**When she smiled I could feel the car shake!”**

**“Clang, clang, clang!”** the girls echoed.

**“He tipped his hat,”** sang Cora.

**“She took a seat,”** sang Finch beside her.

**“He said he hoped he hadn’t stepped upon my feet,”** sang Katherine, as Jack stepped closer, making as though he were actually going to step on her toes.

**“She asked my name—I held my breath,”** Jack sang.

Mush and Elaine took the last two lines together:  **“I couldn’t speak because he scared me half to death!”**

**“Chug, chug, chug went the motor!”** JoJo sang.

**“Plop, plop, plop went the wheels!”** sang Race.

**“Stop, stop, stop went my heartstrings!”** Smalls added.

Everyone else joined in for the rest of the chorus:

**“As he started to go,**

**Then I started to know,**

**How it feels**

**When the universe reels!”**

**“The day was bright, the air was sweet!”** Jack sang to Katherine.

**“The smell of honeysuckle charmed you off your feet!”** Katherine sang back.

**“You tried to sing”—** sang Cora.

**“But couldn’t squeak!”** Finch finished the line.

**“In fact, you loved him so”—** Mush sang.

**“You couldn’t even speak!”** Elaine sang.

For the final chorus, everyone joined in once again:

**“Buzz, buzz, buzz went the buzzer!**

**Plop, plop, plop went the wheels!**

**Stop, stop, stop went my heartstrings!**

**As he started to leave**

**I took hold of his sleeve**

**With my hand!**

**And as if it were planned,**

**He stayed on with me,**

**And it was grand just to stand**

**With his hand holding mine**

**Till the end of the line!”**

As the final notes faded away and the band finished, the club dissolved, once again, into a cacophony of cheering, applause, and laughter. JoJo and Specs hopped off of their tables and gave each other a high five. Mush and Elaine, laughing and a little breathless after dancing on top of their own table through most of the song, embraced. Over on the bar, Cora finally took her hands off of her ears, flapping them happily as she crinkled and uncrinkled her nose.

The noise promised to go on for a while longer, but a series of loud, slow claps echoed above the chaos. Slowly, the teenagers quieted, and turned to face the previously unnoticed pair of figures by the doors, freezing in place as the duo stepped forward into the light.

“Snyder,” Jack growled under his breath.

“Principle Pulitzer?” Davey said hesitantly, rising from his seat.

“That’s right,” Pulitzer looked at Davey with a piercing gaze that almost forced him a step back. “I’m afraid that I don’t know all of your names. A pity, because if I did, you’d certainly all be expelled from my school.”

“Why?” JoJo demanded. “We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Except for slept through your English classes,” Pulitzer muttered.

“Grammar aside,” Jack snapped, taking a step forward, his eyes filling with fire, “what are you doing here?”

“The flier implied that all were welcome,” Snyder held up a crumpled and ripped sheet of paper.

“Yeah, well, that was for the audition,” Jack retorted. “Auditions are over, and I doubt you came with the idea of participatin’ in ‘em anyways.”

“No, you’re right about that,” said Pulitzer. “We certainly wouldn’t want to involve ourselves in anything quite so…  _ distasteful _ as the racket we’ve just heard.”

The door to Medda’s office flung open and she strode out, heels clicking smartly against the floor. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked, voice sharp as glass.

“Good afternoon, madame,” Pulitzer nodded politely to her. “We have no business with you, only with the miscreants out here.”

“Well, seeing as this is my club, if you have no business with me, then you can go right on ahead and get out,” Medda replied. “These children have nothing to do with you.”

“Ma’am, if I may?” Snyder stepped forward, simpering for Medda’s benefit. “I am Captain Snyder, of the local police precinct”—

“It’s very nice to meet you, Captain; I think that it’s a smart idea to be acquainted with the local police force,” said Medda. “After all, you do have a role in the neighborhood, whatever that may be. However, as my club is private property, and these children aren’t breaking any laws, there is no need for you here, nor do you have any right to be here, so I will politely ask you to leave the property.”

Snyder drew himself up, clearly offended by the statement, but he knew as well as Medda did that she was right, so he kept his mouth shut and retreated behind Pulitzer.

“You’re right, Miss..?”

“Medda,” she replied. “Medda Larkin. My name’s on the building, so it should be hard to forget now that you know it.”

“Miss Medda,” Pulitzer said. “Charmed. You have a lovely place here, ma’am. And you’re right: I have no say in what the children do here, or, technically, anywhere outside of the school. But I  _ can _ control what they do inside of the walls of my institution.” He turned back to the band, eyes scanning across the crowd of teenagers—Mush and Elaine still on the table, Race tucked neatly behind his bass, Cora on the bar with Finch protectively in front of her—before coming to settle on, seemingly, Jack. “Therefore. If any of you are caught playing music of any kind inside the school grounds, you will be suspended. Any introduction of the sort of…  _ music _ ”—he spat the word—“that you performed here today will result in immediate expulsion. You may not hang posters or pass out fliers on school grounds. Anyone caught doing so will be expelled. You may not gather in groups larger than three. Doing so at any time other than classes will result in suspension. You may not discuss your band, music, or performances at school. Doing so will result in suspension. Have I missed anything, Captain Snyder?”

“Not so far as I can tell, Principle.”

“Very well,” Pulitzer turned to leave, but stopped and turned back. “Ah. There is one more thing.” He extended a hand. “Katherine? It’s time to go home, dear.”

Every eye in the club turned towards Katherine, who stepped slowly out from behind Jack. She walked over to her father at a snail’s pace, then reached out her hand and placed it in his.

“Kath”—Elaine took a step forward and nearly fell off the table, caught just in time by Mush.

“You don’t gotta go if you don’t want to!” Cora said, hopping off the counter. “We won’t let ‘im take ya.” Her hands balled into fists and she took a half step forward, Finch right on her heels.

Katherine offered them both a small, sad smile, before turning to Jack. “It’s alright. I’ll go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, girls.” She mouthed  _ I’m sorry _ to Jack, then turned and followed her father and Snyder through the doors, leaving the club in stunned silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Newsies or anything you may recognize from it. I do not own the music used in this fic. All of those things belong to their respective owners. I also do not own Cora Higgins—she belongs to @the-cowbi on Tumblr, and I’m super grateful to Mouse for letting me borrow her!!! I do own this story, Elaine and her family, and pretty much everything else not stated above.


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